Family Jewels (Dix Dodd Mystery #2)

in line for a bun. One bite of sticky bun and the seams would rip. But food was probably the last thing on her mind. Currently, she was finger-walking (somehow I always hurt the guy whenever I tried this) her way along Big Eddie’s shirt — right from his custom-made state of Florida belt buckle to the start of his he-vage (we’re talking maybe a 3- inch trip here). Eddie was so giddy he full-body giggled. I could hear the charms around his neck rattling clear across the room. Like a life-sized bobblehead.

Mona got up. She’d seen what was going on. Hell, everyone had. And she’d been a damn site more patient with things than I would have been. “Well, guess crib’s over for awhile. Want me to grab a sweet for you ladies?”

“Grab one for all three of us,” Mother instructed.

“Oh not for me thanks,” I began. “I’m—”

I’m … shutting up now thanks to that good kick in the shin!

“Sorry,” Mother continued. “Yes, Dix, Jane and I would each love one. Could you grab napkins too while you’re up? We’ll take ours to go.”

“Sure I will….” Mona walked away, holding her hand to her pocket as she went. She looked to Tish and Eddie flirting in the corner but walked right on by.

I looked at mother questioningly as I bent down to rub my shin. “What was that all about?”

Mother leaned over to me and spoke just low enough for Mrs. P and I both to hear. “Mona’s having a hard time these days. Financially, that is. I always ask her to get me a bun … or whatever else someone might be having, and then conveniently forget to take it with me. She takes it with her, calls later, and I tell her not to bother bringing it over. It’s not much, but it’s a little something for her.”

“That seems like a lot of … well, running around to give Mona an extra sticky bun.”

Mother shrugged.

“Why doesn’t she just grab a couple for herself. I’m sure nobody would mind.”

“You don’t know Mona Roberts. She wouldn’t ask for a handout if it killed her. She’s generous … to a fault, perhaps. When she could give, she always did. But these days … well, lets just say it’s easier for Mona to take a leftover sticky bun or two than it is for her to ask for a second one in front of everyone.”

“How do you know that her finances are so bad?” Mrs. P asked. “Did she tell you?”

Excellent question. One that had been on the tip of my tongue. Well, it would have been. Eventually. When I’d thought of it.

“God, no. She’d never say anything. But I suspected it, and Big Eddie confirmed it.”

Mother saw me frown. “I know what you’re thinking, Dix. He shouldn’t have broken her confidence.” She sighed. “Tell you the truth, I’m not so sure Eddie didn’t figure it out for himself rather than Mona telling him. He’s a pretty smart guy. And I’m Mona’s best friend. He discussed this with me because he’s worried about her, too. And because he was worried about me.”

I gave her the old raised-eyebrow look.

“He wanted to make sure I was all right.” She shrugged. “Eddie helps a lot of the widows out with things like that, Dix. He knows a lot about business and investments. Like it or not, years ago women just didn’t do any of that sort of thing. Husbands did. They drove the car and mowed the lawn and looked after everything else. Eddie just likes to make sure everyone’s looked after … that’s all.”

“What about Tish? She’s staying with Mona, right?”

“She’s staying with her, but she’s not helping her one damn bit. In fact, if anything, every day Tish McQueen is there, it gets a little harder on Mona. In every way. Let’s just say there’s only so much to go around. And Tish wants a bit of everyone’s share.”

I looked over to Big Eddie and Tish still talking in the corner. Big Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled out a golf ball wrapped in a napkin. Well, technically it wasn’t wrapped in a napkin, so much as Big Eddie was shaking a sticky napkin off his fingers as he pulled the golf ball out. Apparently, the decider himself got first dibs on the sticky buns. That’s why his fingers were sticky.

Using his other hand, Big Eddie re-deposited the napkin in his polyester pants pocket. He was holding the ball up for Tish in one hand and with an animated slice to the other, showing her just how far it could be shot. Tish reached for the ball, but with a wink and a mile-wide smile, Big Eddie pocketed it again. And no, Tish’s reach didn’t follow into Big Eddie’s pocket, but the look she gave him seemed to say someday it might. Then she turned and sashayed away toward the kitchen herself.

“Wonder what’s so special about those balls….” Mrs. P murmured.

A dozen smart-assed remarks leapt to mind, but I resisted giving voice to any of them.

My mother turned to me with one eyebrow delicately arched. Clearly she’d expected me to return that perfect lob.

I shrugged. “Too easy.”

Mother turned back to Mrs. P. “I don’t know what’s up with those golf balls, Jane. But I do know that whenever Eddie has Mona out there practicing her swing, she can’t shoot worth a damn with the regular white balls, but give her one of those colorful lucky ones and she can drive it half way across the lake.”

“Kind of like magic, Katt?” Mrs. P asked, in all seriousness.

“Maybe.” Mother’s smile was small, but it was real. “Magic’s a funny thing, Jane. A pretty great thing when it’s used right. Used for good, you know.” Inexplicably, her eyes welled up with tears. Be damned if she’d let them fall though; not in front of everyone. And Mrs. P and I both gave her a few silent minutes to put them back in check.

Of course, there had to be a logical explanation for the orange golf ball success. One that had nothing to do with magic. Or even luck, as Eddie maintained. The most likely explanation for their fantastic flight being that Big Eddie had replaced the regulation golf ball with something heavier or otherwise juiced up to make it fly just that much further. Or maybe Big Eddie had so convinced his clients that there was magic in that colored ball, they could shoot it to the moon if they wanted too.

However, I would never say any of this to Mother. And not just because she obviously needed a minute here, and not because she did not always appreciate my cynicism. I wouldn’t say anything because there was a fight breaking out in the kitchen.

Nothing was breaking. No fists were being thrown. No one was getting a good old-fashioned beat down. But the yelling that was coming from that little kitchen was enough to clear it.

“Tish McQueen, you’re nothing but a no-good, two-bit flirt!” Mona accompanied her proclamation with a stamp of her foot. “Everything I have, you want! And I’m damn tired of it!”

“There’s nothing two-bit about me,” Tish shot back. “And if you’re referring to Big Eddie, I wouldn’t be so damn sure he’s yours after all.” She bobbed a hand to her hair, though those blond locks were pretty much frozen in place with styling product. “Eddie Baskin has an eye for the ladies, Mona. Can I help it if he likes the pretty ones better?”

“Oh, since when did you become a lady?”

“Good one, Mona!” Mrs. P called across the room. She never was the queen of subtle.

Tish sent an icy glare in our direction, and if looks could kill, Mrs. P would be toes up. But they can’t, so Mrs. Presley just smiled back at Tish. Tish’s glare lasered back to Mona.

I kicked Mother under the table. No, not with the shut-up assault to the shin she’d given me earlier. More like a look-at-me tap, which I followed with the eyebrows raised what-do-you-think? look.

She leaned in. “This has been a long time coming,” she whispered. “Tish has been after Eddie since the first day she got here. Well, Eddie and everyone else. She was always flirting will all the men. Frankie too.” Mother’s lips drew thin here. She touched each of her wrists again and looked down as if she’d forgotten that the watch he’d given her was missing.

I trained my gaze back on the confrontation in the kitchen. Tish was staring hard at Mona, and Mona was staring right back. If I thought Tish’s stare had been icy, it was nothing compared to the frost in her voice when she spoke.

“Well, then, Mona Roberts,” she said, icicles dripping from the words, “suppose I just leave. Suppose I just pack up my bags this very night and head back to Alberta. I’ve lots to do there. Lots of business to conduct and lots of friends to see. Look after my other interests for a while. Maybe that would be best for all concerned.”

In two seconds flat, the look on Mona’s face dropped from furious anger to fearful panic.